


Five Dates Greg and Rebecca Didn't Have (Plus One They Did)

by PurpleCadet



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleCadet/pseuds/PurpleCadet
Summary: Rebecca and Greg recall their clumsy attempts at a relationship and all the roads not taken.





	1. Jayma's Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so deep in my Crazy Ex-Girlfriend obsession and while I am always team Rebecca-gets-healthy, there's so many interesting facets to the Greg and Rebecca dynamic that my heart can't quite let go of the possibility of them. I would love to hear your thoughts. Happy reading!

Greg gets the invitation in the mail, but he gets a phone call from White Josh first. 

“I thought it would be easier coming from me.”

Greg appreciates the sentiment and refrains from putting his fist through another wall. 

“They’re getting married?” he asks dumbly. 

He can’t picture it. Josh had been with Valencia since before Greg could shave. It took fifteen years for Josh to even move in with her and he practically balked at the subject of marriage whenever it was brought it up. 

Rebecca, though, she’s wanted this all along. It’s her that he can picture. Practically manic with happiness, the same way she used to behave around Josh whenever he showed her an ounce of attention. It used to piss him off, now it just hurts. 

“I figured I should call you before you see it on Instagram or Facebook.”

Greg winces. He knows exactly what Rebecca and Josh are like. He’s going to see this engagement splashed all over social media. A big public _fuck you_ to Greg.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m fine, totally over the insanity that is Rebecca Bunch.”

“You’re fine?”

“More than fine, I’m happy for them.”

WhiJo sighs on the end of the line. “Listen dude, I’ve known you my whole life.”

“Then you know I’m fine,” Greg cuts him off, painting a smile on his face, even if WhiJo can’t see it. 

There’s a pause. “Just don’t do anything crazy, okay?”

“Like what?”

_Like go out and drink until I black out._

_Like fly across the country and kick Chan’s ass._

_Like fly across the country and tell Rebecca-_

“I won’t do anything crazy,” he promises. 

It’s only a matter of days before he gets an invitation to their wedding, which is enough to start ringing alarm bells. They can’t have been engaged for more than a week.

He recognises the neat, cursive handwriting as Rebecca’s and it fills him with a sense of bitterness that she probably scrawled _Greg Serrano_ across the envelope without a second thought, just something else to check off her to-do list. _Invite alcoholic, damaged ex-boyfriend who abandoned me at an airport._ _**Check.**_

He stares at the invitation a long time, hands shaking, itching to reach for a drink even though the strongest thing he has in his apartment these days is mouth wash. Rebecca is marrying Josh in less than two weeks and she invited Greg to watch. 

If he goes, it will be the first wedding since Jayma’s and the irony and sadness of that might just undo him. Even Greg isn’t _that_ much of a masochist.  
Back when he was first getting sober, he thought about Jayma’s wedding all the time. There wasn’t all that much to do that Summer except think about not drinking and slowly recount all the major fuckups in his life until that point. It took him a while to tell his Dad what happened, he knew only the bare facts; that Greg took Rebecca to the wedding and that Greg got insecure and embarrassingly drunk, leading to his DUI the next morning. 

Greg caved and told his Dad eventually, admitted that he was afraid Rebecca was still in love with Josh and that he hated both Rebecca and his best friend that night almost as much as he hated himself. He told him that Rebecca said that she really cared about him, but Greg was too far gone to realise what a big deal that was for her. He told him about the ten or fifteen drinks he had that night, told him that he practically wept on White Josh when he drove him home. But Greg never told his Dad why he got in the car the next morning. No, only Rebecca knows the real reason that he got a DUI. 

Greg crumples up the wedding invitation. For one very self-indulgent, delusional moment, Greg wonders if it could have been them if he didn’t leave West Covina. It’s a dangerous thought that he’s strayed to before, when he’s feeling lonely or overwhelmed by a schedule of full-time study, part-time work and weekly AA meetings. And maybe they almost had it at Jayma’s wedding, or at least, they were on the road to having that kind of relationship. 

There are a dozen things he would have done differently that night. He went over it in his head so many times that god awful summer. 

* * *

Instead of sneakers and jeans, Greg spends half of his weekly pay check on a suit. Black, classic, reminiscent of James Bond, sans the bow tie. Greg decides to drive because now he doesn’t have a whole lot of money to splurge on Ubers.

He walks up to Rebecca’s door, shaking his head when he finds it unlocked. He calls out to her and she answers that she’ll be down in five minutes. Greg takes a seat at her kitchen table and fifteen minutes later, she emerges down the stairs, arms stretched out, a brilliant smile on her face. 

She doesn’t even make it down the last few stairs before Greg rushes over to her, a goofy smile on his face to match hers. He cups her cheeks with both hands and kisses her. 

“You look beautiful,” he tells her, unprompted. Rebecca practically beams.

She appraises him with a smile. “You’re wearing a suit?”

He steps back off the stairs and practically twirls on the spot. “It’s a wedding. Gotta step it up, Bunch.”

They’re not invited to the ceremony so they head straight over to the reception. Greg takes a hold of Rebecca’s hand when they enter and she stares at him like he’s surprised her. He suddenly realises that this might be the first time they’ve ever done this in public. Greg doesn’t even suggest drinks. He asks her, “You want to dance?”

The music is slow and Rebecca’s hands are clasped around Greg’s neck, his on her waist. They smile like idiots, their noses almost pressed against one another. Greg only makes three snarky remarks about the décor but Rebecca laughs, reluctantly admitting that the Jewish slash Arabian Nights theme is kind of ridiculous. 

Josh is around and he briefly joins them in a fast dance, with WhiJo and Darryl jumping in too. It’s silly and fun and Greg doesn’t even think about the fact that he’s been at a wedding reception for close to two hours and he hasn’t had a single drink. 

Rebecca dashes off suddenly when Paula arrives and they hug and apologise profusely to one another. Greg lets them have their moment as he takes a seat at their table. Josh comes over to join him. 

“Hey man,” Greg says.

“Hey. You and Rebecca seem to be having fun.”

Greg’s guard is instantly up and Josh must sense it because he quickly says, “I’m sorry for what I said at the hospital. Rebecca and I…we’re friends, good friends. But sometimes I don’t think I really know her that well.”

“You were pretty adamant at the time,” Greg points out.

Josh shrugs, casting a glance at Rebecca across the room. “You guys get each other. She’s different around you. More…real…or something.”

Greg almost smiles. “Thanks Josh. I think I needed to hear that, especially from you.”

Josh does that little half-grin thing he does and for a second Greg is afraid he might try and hug him. 

“Anyway, I better get back to Valencia.”

No sooner than Josh leaves does Rebecca appear in the seat next to Greg’s. 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Everything’s good. Really good, actually.”

She kisses him on the cheek and he flushes. 

“So I’ve been an idiot,” he tells her. “Last week I mean.”

She smiles wryly. “When you celebrated my urinary tract infection or when you decided to go on a blind date?”

“Both of those times.”

“Yeah, you were kind of an idiot, Serrano.”

He takes her hand. “I like you a lot, Rebecca.”

She eyes him skeptically. “So you’re done playing it cool?”

“Most definitely.”

She grins and kisses him full on the mouth. “I like you too, Greg. Like a lot, a lot.”

“Want to get out of here?”

“Yes. Right now.”

* * *

So yeah. Greg would have done something like that instead. Would Rebecca be marrying Josh if he hadn’t turned Jayma’s wedding into the colossal fuck up of a night that it was? Would he still be in West Covina? Working for measly tips at Home Base and barely getting through his extension classes? Would he be with Rebecca?  


_You two are poison for each other._

Realistically, Greg knows that he and Rebecca weren’t ready for each other. There were real feelings there and they understood each other, but Rebecca was still holding onto her Josh Chan Summer Camp fantasy and Greg was so miserable that he regularly sabotaged anything remotely good in his life. 

Jayma’s wedding was his rock bottom. He needed a rock bottom. Did it have to come at the expense of him and Rebecca? Probably. 

Greg pulls his phone out of his pocket and fires off a text to WhiJo.

_I can’t do it. If they ask, tell them I can’t get away from school._

Greg knows they won’t ask.


	2. The Taco Festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place within that lovely little pocket of time in 1.17 where Rebecca and Greg were almost happy, even if they were kidding themselves. Thank you for those who have left comments and kudos!

Rebecca is not at all familiar with this feeling. Obviously, she’s liked guys before, loved a few even. Loving a person and not having them love her back is a feeling with which she is deeply acquainted.

This thing with Greg, though, their new _arrangement_ , feels entirely foreign to her. She likes him and he’s actually within reach. So within reach that he’s occupying the left side of her bed while she contemplates this new facet of their relationship. But while she’s finally realising her feelings, he’s being annoyingly nonchalant. It’s confusing because up until this point she’d been _so_ sure he still liked her. She had six months proof that he liked her. Watching dog shows with her, running to the court house, caring if she turned up at a morgue _liked_ her. 

Her feelings for Josh had been intense, always exploding inside of her when he smiled at her, hugged her, sent her a text, whenever called her ‘Becks’. She’d had an entire relationship with Josh Chan in her head, but aside from the one kiss that he instantly regretted, nothing tangible ever came from her feelings.

Her feelings for Greg have been far more gradual, evolving in the background of her fixation on Josh. She knows she’s broken Greg’s heart “a bunch of times” and wounded his pride even more than that, so she knows she doesn’t have the right to be so affronted that he’s dating other people, or planning to at least. Besides, he’s not even really _dating_ her. They’re just sleeping together. Like a lot, pretty much all the time, but it’s just sex. Even if he has fallen asleep beside her more times than he hasn't and they’ve eaten both breakfast and dinner together every night for the last week. Why on earth would they be doing that if he didn’t genuinely like her?

Rebecca looks over at Greg, trying to make out his face in the dark. He’s sleeping soundly, face mashed into her pillow and mouth slightly ajar. Greg chased her for months while she was chasing Josh and as much as she loathes sports metaphors, the ball is in her court. She’s due for a grand gesture. 

A part of her wants to wake him and demand that they go on an actual date with actual clothing – and she almost does until her brain says, _“What? Like the taco festival?”_

Rebecca is still deeply ashamed of her behaviour on their first proper date (because lord knows Bean’s party doesn’t count) and gets a horrible knot in the pit of stomach whenever she thinks about how differently it could have turned out. 

_All I can think about it what this night could have been._

She screwed up the trajectory of their relationship that night. Greg had liked her, even if she was weird and mean and self-involved. 

Like so many awful mistakes she’s made, Rebecca wishes she could have a do-over. 

_“You couldn’t resist temptation, huh?”_

_Rebecca glances up at Greg, mouth full of pork and salsa. She swallows hard._

_“Veganism is so not worth it,” she admits between bites._

_“Haven’t I been saying that all along?”_

_She rolls her eyes. “Is this the gloating portion of the date where you say, ‘I told you so’?”_

_Greg frowns at the bite in her tone and throws his hands up in defence. “No gloating, I promise.” He points to the taco. “Now how about we get that to-go?”_

_Rebecca nods, a smile threatening to pull at her lips. “Okay, but let me get one for you too. If I’m eating my way to a heart attack then so are you.”_

_“Planning our future already? I’m flattered, Bunch.”_

_Greg drives them both back to her house and they sit on the couch and devour their tacos, making fun of the cheesy two-star rom-com that Rebecca chooses from her Netflix suggestions._

_And it’s not fireworks and candlelight dinners and a big showy production, but god, it’s nice to be able to connect with someone. Rebecca has struggled to make friends her entire life, but Greg is right, he does get her. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s adorable like this, when he’s open and laughing and his sentences aren’t eighty percent snark (though that does hold a certain appeal)._

_“So I think we crushed this date,” Rebecca says. Her legs are stretched out on the couch, draped over Greg’s lap. He’s running his hand over her knee in slow deliberate circles._

_“We danced, we drank, we yelled at each other.”_

_“We ate guacamole.”_

_Greg smiles and is it too sentimental to think that it’s quickly becoming one of her favourite things about him?_

_“Stay over?” she asks, surprising herself._

_She’d accepted the date for the wrong reasons, but now she realises that she doesn’t want it to end. Being here with Greg, actually being herself…it doesn’t feel so much like settling._

_Greg uses his hold on her to bring her closer until she’s practically sitting on his lap. He threads a hand through her hair. Rebecca doesn’t have the patience to wait so she kisses him first. He responds quickly and Rebecca can feel him smile against her lips._

She wishes their date could have ended that way, even though she knows one of them probably would have screwed it up pretty much immediately after.

Rebecca shifts closer to Greg, resting her head on his chest. He lifts his arm and wraps it around her only a second later. He’s a light sleeper like she is. 

“Greg?” she whispers.

His hold on her tightens. “Mmm?”

_Don’t go on the date. Don’t go on the date._

“I’m sorry about the Taco Festival.”

His fingers run lightly down her arm as he sighs into her hair.

“I know you are.”

“I know I said it already, like a lot, but I’m sorry I hurt you. Uh, more than once.”

“Where is this coming from?” he asks, more alert. 

Rebecca sits up on her elbow so that they’re face to face. “I’m just trying to avoid making the same mistakes.”

“Okay.” 

Rebecca slides down and drapes herself back across Greg’s body. She feels Greg shift beneath her and his hand slide down to her ass. 

“So…now that we’re both awake…”

Rebecca laughs as she straddles his waist and he sits up to kiss her, muffling the sound. 

Tomorrow. She’ll say something tomorrow.


	3. The Drive-In at Alhambra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place before Rebecca is engaged to Josh (i.e. before chapter 1).

The past week had been one shitty day after another. But Greg had been so prepared for finals, he was going to ace his tests. Studying sober and actually giving a shit was proving incredibly productive. It had been a long time since Greg had cared this much about anything. So, naturally it had to fall to pieces.

He’s been applying for summer internships on the East Coast and his week kicked off with three straight rejections. Greg knows he's just as qualified as any of his other classmates who had been applying for similar positions, but they also have the advantage of being five years younger than he was. Considering how well he’s been doing in his classes, it had been a sizeable blow to his ego.

He managed of course, slogging along through his lectures on Wednesday morning and being extra snarky to his over-eager, fresh-faced peers during a group project meeting. The following day he'd gotten a call from his father’s doctor; his Dad’s emphysema had progressed to a stage three. Greg had been equal parts devastated and furious. Not only had his Dad neglected to personally tell him the news, but they'd gotten into a huge argument when Greg had called him up to chew him out for continuing to smoke, drink and eat his way to a heart attack. His next call had been to Barely Seniors where he berated the unlucky receptionist on shift for not properly supervising his father.

Greg had been fuming when he’d gone into work that evening and maybe he’d been naïve for getting another job in a bar but he’d desperately needed part-time work before his savings ran out and his distinct lack of experience had narrowed down his choices. It had been perfectly fine, albeit dull work, for the past few weeks, but he’d walked into his shift looking for a fight and had snapped at the first drunken idiot who questioned his refusal to serve him when he became particularly obnoxious. Did he have to get into a fist fight with the guy? His boss certainly didn’t think so and Greg was fired on the spot.

To cap off his shit-filled week, Greg’s marketing analytics mid-term was on Friday afternoon and he’d been so scattered and sleep deprived that he's almost certain that he flunked the entire thing. He was going to fail the unit. He’d have to take the course over. He was going to be even later to the game than he was already and those smug, overachieving twenty-two year olds would wind up being his supervisors one day.

Greg sleeps through his AA meeting on Saturday morning and pretends that it doesn’t mean anything. He shoots off a text to his sponsor and promises to call. On Sunday night he walks three blocks to a convenience store and buys a bottle of whiskey. By this point he knows exactly what he’s doing and what it means for his recovery.

He slumps down on the couch in his small, studio apartment, the first place of his own in his entire life and feels paralysed with loneliness. He suffered through plenty of miserable weeks in West Covina. But the difference there had been that he still had an entire support system made up of his Dad and his friends. But that took twenty-seven odd years to cultivate. He’s barely been in Atlanta for five months.

Greg stares at the full, unopened bottle on his coffee table. He decides to turn the TV on, because he will not make this moment any more insidious by drinking in the dark.

A glow of black and white grabs his attention; Ingrid Bergman about to get on a plane, Humphrey Bogart gearing up to let her go. Greg lets out a hollow, mirthless laugh. He’s suddenly all too aware of his phone in his pocket, digging into his thigh. _Fuck it,_ he thinks, he’s listened to signs before.

She picks up on the fifth ring.

“Greg?”

“Hey, Rebecca. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry.”

“What are you up to?”

“Uh…nothing much, just hanging out on the couch. Heather’s out.”

“You live with Heather now?” he asks, latching onto that line of questioning to keep her from starting her own.

“Yeah since…well it’s been a couple of months.”

“That’s nice,” he manages.

“You sure about that? Two of your exes shacking up? Maybe we’re comparing notes.”

He scoffs and lets out a nervous laugh.

“So how are things?”

Greg has to admire how she keeps her tone so casual considering he’s calling her on a Sunday in the middle of the night. This isn’t exactly a regular occurrence for the two of them. He hasn’t even heard her voice since he said goodbye to her at the airport.

His eyes fall back to the bottle, fighting the urge to confess and purge all of his ugliest thoughts and feelings to Rebecca. It would be so easy without having to see her face.

“Greg?”

He settles somewhere in between.

“I’m not doing so great.”

He hears her breathe deeply.

“You don’t have to tell me, Greg.”

He sighs, slumping further into the couch. He glances down at himself, still in the same clothes for twenty-four hours, he hasn’t shaved, hasn’t eaten anything in the last week that couldn’t be delivered. _I’m a mess,_ he wants to say.

She’d understand _. She gets it._ If nothing else, they’ve always had that dangerous self-hate thing going on, one more awful thing they could share. It’s why he chose to call _her_ , if he’s being honest with himself.

“Would you mind just staying on the line with me? We could watch TV together. In separate states and time zones.”

“I can do that.”

Greg relaxes slightly, sinking into the couch. He has questions for her, things he’s been afraid to ask White Josh and Hector and everybody else he left behind in West Covina.

_Is she doing okay?_

_Is she seeing someone?_

_Is she seeing Josh?_

Tonight isn’t the time though. Rebecca is graciously giving him the floor and it’s enough for now.

 _“Louis, I think_   _this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”_

“So what are you watching?”

Greg clears his throat. “Some black and white movie. I caught the end by accident.”

“Nice try, Serrano, I know you’re watching _Casablanca_ too.”

“I missed the whole thing.”

“So? It’s on Netflix.”

“And?”

“…And we could watch it,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You want to sit through the entire movie again just to indulge me?”

“It’s boring at home without Heather. Plus I only caught the last twenty minutes myself.”

Greg scrolls through his Netflix until he finds _Casablanca_.

“You got it yet?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m hovering over the play button. Should we do a countdown?”

Greg smiles. “Let’s not.”

“Three, two, one…”

They watch the opening credits in silence. Greg can still see the bottle of whiskey in his periphery but the overwhelming desire to drink the entire thing is slowly beginning to subside. The urge isn’t gone completely, but knowing he’d have a witness to his relapse, even miles away, is helping.

As he suspected, Rebecca does a running commentary throughout the movie.

“How many times have you seen this?” he asks around the halfway mark.

“Six or seven maybe.”

“What’s the appeal? I mean, it’s a great movie, but six or seven times?”

Rebecca gasps, horrified. “It’s a classic love story.”

“Ah, of course.”

“And you know, it proves that love doesn’t have a time frame. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman thought they missed their window, but here they are again, years later.”

Greg suspects she’s talking about Josh and feels that delightful sense of resentment again. _Hello, old friend._

“And I don’t think the airport was their final goodbye.”

Greg sucks in a breath. _Well that clears that up_. “You don’t?” he says carefully.

“I don’t.”

They finish the film in relative silence, Greg practically holding his breath during the final scene, head cloudy with déjà vu. Rebecca is the first to speak.

“So I finally got you to watch _Casablanca_ with me.”

Greg smiles sadly at the memory.

“Only eight months after you asked.”

Greg shuts the TV off and stretches out along the length of the couch. His apartment is cloaked in darkness but it’ll be light in only a few hours.

“Did you ever end up going to that drive-in?” he asks, the unspoken _“with Josh”_ is implicit.

“No,” she sighs, “Movies were our thing.”

Greg has some pretty devastating memories of Rebecca; the argument in her apartment after the Taco Festival, Jayma’s wedding, the duck pond, their goodbye at the airport. They were a living disaster eighty percent of the time but Greg remembers the good stuff just as vividly - smaller moments like hanging out in her apartment, working through his Netflix queue and making fun of each other or whatever they were watching. And she’s right, movies were their thing.

“Thanks for answering, Bunch,” he says, the nickname falling from his lips out of habit.

"Thanks for calling."

He falls asleep with Rebecca that night, phone still pressed against his ear. In the morning, he pours the entire bottle of whiskey down the sink.

 


	4. The Olive Garden

Rebecca never quite follows through on her vow to destroy Josh Chan. Her vendetta comes to an abrupt end when she realises that ruining his life won’t undo the fact that he broke her heart, damaged as it was. For a minute it had been fun, plotting with Paula like old times and scheming with Valencia. Heather refused to participate other than to point out how deluded she was for thinking this course of action would solve her problems _(don’t interrupt another number, Heather!)_. But Josh is still her first love, the boy who swept her off her feet at summer camp and gave her a reason to quit her toxic life in New York and she can’t ever truly hurt him. Or hate him, for that matter.

“Can you really blame him, Paula?”  
  
Paula is perched on the foot of her bed and Rebecca is curled up in the foetal position when she should be at work but she can hardly muster up the energy to get out of bed.  
  
“What he did to you was inexcusable. He broke your heart.”  
  
“They all do, Paula. Every single man I have ever loved has never loved me back. Don’t you see the common thread here?”  
  
Paula rubs her shoulder. “Sweetie, that’s not true.”  
  
Rebecca sits up in bed. “Oh, yes it is.” She starts counting on her fingers, “Josh, my Dad, Robert, Greg-”  
  
Paula scoffs. “Are you really lumping Greg in that category?”  
  
Rebecca narrows her eyes and slumps back against her bedhead. She crosses her arms. “Greg left me.”  
  
“He left West Covina.”  
  
“Same difference.”  
  
“He loved you.”  
  
“Not enough to stay,” she spits out.  
  
“Greg needed to leave West Covina just like you needed to leave New York.”  
  
Deep down, Rebecca knows this. She’s had months to think about why he left and why it was ultimately the best thing for him, even if it devastated her.  
  
“You don’t think it’s true, call him up and ask him.”  
  
“Call him and ask if he ever loved me?” Rebecca balks.  
  
“If that will make you feel better, yes.”  
  
“That’s crazy,” she mutters to herself.  
  
“Little bit,” Paula says, reaching for her hand.  
  
Paula leaves for the office a little while later and Rebecca promises that she will be in tomorrow. Darryl has already given her more days off than she’s entitled to, with little resistance from Nathanial. God, she’s almost getting tired of people feeling this sorry for her. She migrates to the couch because Heather is at Home Base and her sheets are beginning to feel stale. She mindlessly scrolls through her Netflix queue for half an hour before she relents.  
  
Greg answers on the third ring.  
  
“Rebecca?”  
  
Rebecca runs a hand through her oily hair. “Yeah. Hi, Greg. How are things?”  
  
“They’re good. Uh…how are things with you?”  
  
“Good. Great. Never better.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
There’s almost a full minute of silence before Greg speaks.  
  
“I’m sorry I haven’t called.”  
  
“About what?” she asks, her voice getting an octave higher.  
  
“Rebecca.”  
  
She clears her throat. “It’s okay, Greg.”  
  
“I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t. Clearly.”  
  
Rebecca snorts. “Yeah, me either.”  
  
“Is there something you want to talk about?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. But only if you’re free. It’s cool if you have class or work or a friend over.”  
  
Rebecca cringes upon hearing the desperate tone of her voice. She was also not at all subtle about the ‘having a friend over’ remark.  
  
Greg, thankfully, takes mercy on her. “No, I’m free. I was just about to take a study break.”  
  
“How is Emory?”  
  
“It’s hard but good. I’m the designated mature age student which can be…challenging at times.”  
  
Rebecca nods along, chewing her thumb nail.  
  
“But that’s not why you called…”  
  
She takes a deep breath, _it’s now or never, Bunch._  
  
“Greg, do you, uh…ever wonder how things would have turned out if you came to the bridge that day?”  
  
Greg goes silent on the end of the line. Rebecca can already feel the embarrassment bubbling up inside her. “Forget it, I didn’t mean-”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“As a rule.”  
  
“You don’t as a rule,” she parrots.  
  
“Rebecca, I don’t think this is a good idea.”  
  
Rebecca laughs but it’s hollow and painful. “Believe me, I know what a terrible idea this is.”  
  
“Then let’s not open old wounds.”  
  
“Well, maybe mine still haven’t healed.”  
  
“And you think mine have?” he snaps at her.  
  
Rebecca stills. She never intended to upset him. Maybe she’s being selfish and just a tiny bit cruel by doing this to him but she’s too preoccupied with this to let it go.  
  
“I know you’re hurting after what happened with Josh,” Greg says and she winces. “But is this really going to make you feel better?”  
  
“It can’t make me feel worse.”  
  
Greg doesn’t say anything for such a long time that Rebecca is sure he’s about to hang up.  
  
“I would have walked up to you and kissed you.”  
  
She smiles, feeling her heart flutter. “Without saying anything?” she asks, relieved that he’s indulging her.  
  
“Well, somehow we always said the wrong thing – or the right thing at the wrong time, so yeah, I think I would have let my actions speak.”  
  
“And I would have said, you’re late.”  
  
“And I would have taken your hand and we would have walked over to The Olive Garden like we planned.”  
  
“You remember,” she marvels.  
  
“Of course I remember.”  
  
“You really would have taken me there? Even though you always maintained that it was the poorest excuse for Italian food?”  
  
Greg laughs. “Well I know how much you like chain restaurants.”  
  
Rebecca grins. “We would have finally had a real date.”  
  
“And finished at your place.”  
  
Rebecca rolls her eyes fondly. “And finished at my place, yes.” She toys with the hem of her t-shirt. “And after that?"  
  
“I would have stayed,” he finishes sadly.  
  
Rebecca slumps back on the couch, sliding until she’s lying down flat. She was wrong, this does make her feel worse.  
  
“I had to leave, Rebecca. West Covina was killing me. Emory…I’ve wanted it for so long. I needed to be selfish.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
She hears him sigh. “Look, what I said at the airport…”  
  
“That we were a shit show?”  
  
“No, the other thing.”  
  
_Of course I love you._  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I really did mean it, you know that right?”  
  
Paula was right, Greg wasn’t like the others. “I’m sorry I called you.” She blinks back tears. “That wasn’t fair.”  
  
“Probably not.”  
  
Rebecca sniffs, chuckling along with Greg. “I should let you go.”  
  
“You don’t have to.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“We could just talk or not talk.”  
  
“Greg, I appreciate that, I do, but I’ve been getting enough pity from everyone in West Covina as it is…”  
  
“That’s not what this is. You need a friend, I need a friend. I get lonely too.”  
  
“You do?”  
  
“With all my friends and relatives over two-thousand miles away? Yeah, sometimes I do.”  
  
Rebecca sits up, turning off the TV. “So tell me about your assignments. And don’t leave anything out.”

 

 

 


End file.
